Unconditional Patience
by Arianwen P.F. Everett
Summary: Mayfield's adolescent ward has a new resident, and Doctor Nolan has his work cut out for him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own House, MD or any of its characters. I write for entertainment, not money.

Author's Note: I know I do this same storyline for every fandom I get hooked into, but it's my favorite. If you like the House version, please leave a review. I need to know I'm not taping a dry well.

Unconditional Patience

By Arianwen P.F. Everett

Dr. Darryl Nolan Jr. closed the file he'd been sent by the government, and stood up to stretch. Mayfield's adolescent ward was getting a new patient, but unlike the rest of the hospitals' residents, this one had the unfortunate advantage of being sane and not in actual need of long term psychiatric care.

Not that he felt he couldn't offer her any help. She was presenting as a textbook schizophrenic, but Nolan knew that a presentation this textbook was just an act. She probably wanted the opportunity to leave whatever holding facility the government had her in, and going mad was her way out. Convincing the CIA to dump her in Mayfield proved to Nolan that she was as manipulatively clever as her father, as well as equally reckless with her body considering the antipsychotics she was allowing the CIA doctors to pump her full of in order to maintain the illusion of a psychotic. Yes, Dr. Nolan knew the girl's time at Mayfield wouldn't be a waste for either of them, even if the initial reason for her arrival was phony.

As if on cue, the buzz from his phone alerted him to the fact that the subject of his ruminations had arrived. Picking up the receiver, Nolan had to suppress a smile at the edge of panic in the security guard's voice. Obviously G-men weren't very big on the guy's list. "Yes, I know. Send them in."

The first thing Nolan saw of his new patient was her hair. It was well groomed, but long, dark brown and volumous, so volumous, it covered most of her face as she shuffled in. She wore a simple white tank top and navy blue sweatpants, with a matching sweatshirt tied around her waist. White socks and mildly scuffed sneakers completed the costume. Very astute; schizophrenics might not dress to the nines, but they weren't always scruffy and dirty like popular culture depicted them. He also noted she was swaying slightly and keeping her head down, but that was likely a result of the meds. He'd have to check her out as soon as the government agent left.

Nolan signed the paperwork he was given, and then shook the CIA operative's hand. "Thank you. I can take it from here."

The girl turned, following her former handler to the door. "You were nice. You need to be more green."

The man half-smiled accommodatingly to Nolan, and then removed the hands that had snaked their way up his torso to his shoulders. Pinning the hands together before he let go, the young agent beat a hasty retreat from Nolan's office, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I take back. Green enough," the girl slurred, then eerily giggled, the meds she'd been given slowing down the world around her. Now that she was at Mayfield, she could relax. The drugs would wear off. Dr. Nolan would know she was faking psychosis and purge them from her system. With her last ounce of childish faith, she knew Dr. Nolan would make everything right as he always had for her father.

Nolan held back another laugh. "I hope you don't plan on continuing that inappropriate behavior with the staff here, Miss House."

The brunette spun around, shocked, then eased as she recognized the man standing across the room. Her short term memory had been nuked by the antipsychotics, having made her forget he was in the room, but her long term memory was just fine and her face lit up as she raced to her father's psychiatrist. "Dr. Nolan!"

Nolan saw the giddy look on the girl's face and the increased speed of her shuffle. He knew that from her perspective she must be running towards him, so he moved to meet her half way, returning her hug. Nolan smiled to himself, pleased that the father's more caustic and untrusting aspects appeared to have skipped a generation, yet he also knew that there had to be more to this hug than the child being happy to see him.

Having worked with the government twice before, he knew the Area 51-like scenarios were decidedly off the mark. Still, the CIA couldn't allow a time traveler to freely mix with the civilian population without thoroughly debriefing and retraining them first, which meant months of detainment and interrogation, albeit under humane conditions. There was no need to treat a future American citizen with no significant political agenda like a radical jihadist, but the fact remained that she was 16 years old and had an IQ that permitted her to crack the very nature of space time, so laying down the rules and letting her make her own way in the world was also not realistic. The government was doing the best it could for the girl, including bringing her here when she started exhibiting signs of mental illness. It was Nolan who knew she had an ulterior agenda that wasn't necessarily in line with national security or her father, his patient's, continued mental health.

"I promise I be good. Stay here," the girl slurred, looking Nolan in the eye, the image of sincerity. She didn't want to make waves, at least not till she was mentally functional again.

Nolan chucked. "Don't worry. I won't hold you to that, but I will take you off the meds for now. We'll see what's underneath all that sedation, and then we can add what's needed. For now, let's get you checked out in the infirmary, and then settled into the adolescents' ward, and I'll see you again on Monday, when you're feeling more like yourself. Okay?"

"Okay, Dr. Nolan. Trust," the girl said, groggily, as she began walking along side Dr. Nolan.

He could see she was drifting and he sighed at the Fed's heavy-handedness with a needle. Still, the drugs would wear off. Where they would go from there would be anybody's guess but then that was what he liked most about his job.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own House, MD or any of its characters. I write for entertainment, not money.

Author's Note: I know I do this same storyline for every fandom I get hooked into, but it's my favorite. If you like the House version, please leave a review. I need to know I'm not taping a dry well.

Unconditional Patience

Part 2

By Arianwen P.F. Everett

When Monday finally arrived at Mayfield, it did so with a bang, followed by an animalistic howl of pain. This was the situation Dr. Darryl Nolan was greeted with as he pulled into the hospital's parking lot at 7:30 AM. Not that this was an odd sound to be heard in a psychiatric hospital, but the cause, a Mary Diamante, a seventeen year old schizophrenic and abuse victim, pinned by the back end of a minivan certainly was, and any thought of getting an early start on the young time traveler had to be pushed aside.

By ten the situation had been dealt with and his truly schizophrenic patient was at the local hospital, getting both her legs stitched up and reset. Thankfully the driver of the minivan had hit the brakes in time, and the damage was superficial. Mary would be once again shuffling the halls of Mayfield's adolescent ward within half a year.

Dr. Nolan had to wonder where, or even when, Miss Lillith Anna Cuddy-House would be in six months. Would she still be at Mayfield? Back in her own time living her normal life? And where did her father fit into that life? Truth was, that was the question that intrigued him most. Thankfully he only had to wait till after art therapy to start getting his answers.

"Is it true Mary got run over by a truck?" the object of his prior ruminations asked as she entered Dr. Nolan's office and plopped down on the leather chair directly across from him, eager for news.

"Minivan, this morning, but she's at the hospital and they tell me she'll be returning this evening. She's fine. But how are you today, Miss House?" Dr. Nolan asked, eager to focus on his present session rather than the events of this morning.

"I'm fine. Still a bit slowed, but clearing up minute by minute. So which hospital did they send her to Epiphany or Beckman General?" the girl asked, having turned the conversation back to the incident earlier.

"As the daughter of two physicians, you know that I..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, confidentiality. I guess I'm just spoiled. At home I'm pretty much privy to everyone's file. Of course, I'm a hospital employee, so I'm contractually obligated to keep privilege for the hospital's sake, but at least I know what's happening around me," the brunette admitted as she slumped back into her chair, surrendering to her powerlessness, while fighting to keep the depressing thoughts that accompanied it from running away with her.

"It must be very frightening to be so out of the loop," Nolan sympathized, reflecting the anxiety he heard in the girl's voice.

"It's frustrating to be out of the loop. Frightening is being out of the loop in regards to your own welfare. I wasn't raised to be shuffled around like paperwork," the girl replied, making sure Nolan heard her distain at her treatment by the Feds.

"Has anyone at Mayfield treated you like 'paperwork', Miss House," Dr. Nolan asked, wanting names if they had.

"No, they haven't. I'm sorry if I made it sound like you didn't care. I know you do. But it's Cuddy-House, not just House. My parents never married, and neither of their egos would permit the other to brand me exclusively, resulting in my surname being hyphenated. You can call me Lilly, like you always do.. did.. will," Lilly interjected, not liking the formality in the room.

"Alright, Lilly, how do you see yourself getting back into the loop in regards to your own life? What's your plan?" Nolan asked, despite the curiosity she'd managed to stir in him with regards to her parents' future relationship. As a trained therapist he knew he had to resist the need to know. While it was true she probably didn't feel comfortable being called 'Miss House' by him, 'Lilly' had diverted from discussing her own situation to discussing her parents future decisions, and as he'd learned in med school talking about the future could often be an escape from discussing a more painful present. He would tread lightly, but he had to push forward.

"While my first inclination is to lie, I'm gonna need daily day passes to carry it out, so what the hay? I'm going into the medical poaching business. I know what you're thinking. She grew up in a hospital. What does she know about starting her own business? Well, I took an online junior achievement course when I was 12, and the Feds promised to provide me new documentation when you deemed me ready, so I don't see a problem with setting one up. Thinking of filing as an LLC," Lilly explained, hoping Nolan would follow her set up, at least long enough to clear their session. She didn't really want to think of the deeper ramifications of her situation, and she certainly didn't want Nolan poking that far into her head. She trusted him, but she didn't feel ready to deal with it at the moment. Her first priority had to be building a new life. Then she could face the one that looked more and more lost to her with each passing day.

"Medical poaching? I've never heard of that," Nolan asked, not understanding the reference. It didn't sound like something he'd approve of or give any day passes for, but then again, the term might be misleading.

"Right now it's in its infancy, but by my time every teaching hospital has a 'procurement office'. It starts in oncology. Researching rare cancers isn't very profitable, but treating patients with them and selling the nameless data, after the fact, is. It also makes for great publication fodder. Right now, there's this Dr. Albert Renalds out in California who's bribing lab techs all over the country to alert him when individuals with specific cancer types appear. Then he swoops in and offers to pay for treatment once he and his people confirm the diagnosis. The patient has to sign exclusivity and gag contracts, but most of them know they aren't going to survive and don't want to drain their loved ones resources in the fight. Needless to say Uncle Wilson hates this guy for the way he exploits terminally ill patients.. or he will once they cross paths, but don't worry; my business is gonna be different, serve the greater good." Lilly assured Nolan, gratified by the smirk that lit the old psychiatrist's face.

"Who's greater good?" Nolan asked, knowing the girl was telling the truth, but not necessarily the full truth.

"The good of people with interesting symptoms, trapped with incompetent emergency room doctors all over the tri-state area. And if my father's billable hours and the team's journal submission rates go up as a result, which in turn bolsters my mother's advocacy for PPTH's diagnostics department and I earn myself a decent wage, well I'd be a fool to not explore that option, wouldn't I?

"Of course you would," Nolan replied, barely able to hold in a smirk.

"Seriously though, I plan to scope out local emergency room waiting areas during rush hour and chart patients I see whose symptoms aren't self explanatory. Then I'll start up a conversation with each visitor and get as much medical history and other details as I can both before they're seen and after they come out. If the ER doc's diagnosis doesn't fit or I just have a feeling that the case is one that my father could sink his teeth into, I'll mail my homemade chart to Mom or Uncle Wilson. The anonymous nature of the mailings will gain their interest and their caution, but if they think the cases have merit, they'll still deliver the charts to Dad. Then all I have to do is give my parents a month or two to chase their tails trying to track down the source of the mysterious charts, put on my Sunday best, and head into Mom's office to negotiate a regular salary and benefits," Lilly explained, hoping she sounded cheerful and confident enough to ensure Nolan's faith in her plan.

"And you think your mother will just accede to your demands without knowing who you are?" Nolan asked incredulously, unsure if the plan had any real merit. From what he'd gathered from Lilly's father, Dr. Lisa Cuddy never backed down from a fight when it came to her job. She'd likely send the girl packing rather than deal with an unknown factor, and to be publicly humiliated by her mother like that could hurt Lilly immensely.

"My mother won't turn down the chance to silence my father's naysayers on the board who want her to make him behave like the rest of the stiff scrubs or fire him for insubordination. Doubling his already unbeatable success rate and bringing his billable hours into line with most other departments that have larger patient loads would go a long way in making them choke on their criticism. When I show up and threaten that advantage, after they've both gotten used to the file folders full of diagnostic goodies coming at regular intervals, my mother will deal in order to keep dad's numbers from dropping to pre-poaching levels. But you do have a point. My mom is a kickass negotiator. Despite my plans, I'm likely to end up a hungry kitten," Lilly finished, already prepping for the challenge she was sure was ahead of her. She'd be earning less than a CNA if she didn't prepare to meet her mother across the desk with the steeliest of wills.

"Hungry kitten?" Nolan asked, bemused by the wording, but again confused by the meaning.

Lilly rolled her eyes at her own vagueness. "Sorry. One of Dad's analogies. When her kittens reach the feline equivalent of adolescence, a feral cat will start bringing them live mice. At first they're half dead and can barely twitch, but over the final few weeks of kitten-hood, they get progressively more feisty specimens. Then one day mama cat brings back a perfectly unharmed mouse. It's how she trains the kittens to hunt. Often a few mice evade the kittens, but the mother cat won't recapture them. She purposely lets the kittens go hungry because she needs them to understand the stakes involved in failure. I can just hear Dad now. "We build hospital, skyscrapers, and Vegas casinos, but at the end of the day, humans are the most feral creatures of all. Out-negotiating you into slave wages is just Cuddy's way of doing her evolutionary duty as a mom. Cut her some slack, and don't let Mickey scamper away next time."

Suddenly a feminine chuckle rang across the room and both psychiatrist and teenaged time-traveler whipped their heads around to view the interloper at the doorway. "You do a great impression of your Dad."

"What the hell is she doing here?" Lilly commented, the sourness she felt towards the woman evident in her voice.

"Dr. Cameron has graciously agreed to take on your case during your stay here. It was a condition of your transfer. Didn't the Feds explain that to you?" Nolan asked, confused. Perhaps the girl had been too zonked out to understand the deal she had agreed to.

"If she's anything like her father, they did and she understood very well. She probably figured it would be some wet-behind-the-ears psychiatrist, barely out of his residency, whom she could jerk around," Dr. Allison Cameron analyzed, amused by the expression on the brunette's face.

"How foolish of me to think they'd send a psychiatrist to follow me to a psychiatric hospital when an immunologist is so much more the logical choice," Lilly quipped, rising to her feet to look the fake blonde in the eye.

"The federal agents that brought me on board seemed to think so," Cameron defended, knowing she hadn't been chosen for this job due to her medical skill. Truth was the recession was causing hospital jobs to be shed and despite her background she had yet to find a new place to hang her shingle. The situation and her recent divorce had been making her jumpy and interfering with her sleep. Babysitting House and Cuddy's future-kid might not be the best career move, but it would occupy her time, pay the bills, and prevent a gaping hole of unemployment from showing up in her resume.

"So you're just going to follow me around all day?" Lilly asked incredulously. Aunt Cameron wasn't the kind to sit on her hands, ever. If somebody was in trouble, she had to get involved. It was fundamental to who she was.

"Outside of your individual therapy sessions and doctor's appointments, yes," Cameron replied, trying to hide her own unease with the idleness of her new position.

Keeping eye contact all the way, Lillith Anna Cuddy-House stalked towards Dr. Allison Cameron, till their faces were mere inches apart. "Alright then, Annie Sullivan, let the games begin."


End file.
